


Achernar's Disk

by birdsandivory



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Fluff, Gladnis, Last Words AU, M/M, Promptis - Freeform, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, gladiolus and ignis are married!, happy ending yall i swear, ignis and prompto as best friends, noctis is a grudge holder, prompto has a lot of secrets, silent arguing and mild passive aggressiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-07-05 23:03:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15873513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsandivory/pseuds/birdsandivory
Summary: Many had a speech writ upon their skin, a telltale thread of syllables that reminded them of the moment in which their loved one would cease to exist - and they had time, they were aware, they knew it was years and years away. There was context to be followed, a warning gifted to them so that they could prepare, their worry still decades into the future.But Prompto had to worry each and every time Noctis said 'I love you.'





	Achernar's Disk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lureith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lureith/gifts).



> This one is for the very generous and very patient @justiceandcats on [Tumblr](https://birdsandivory.tumblr.com), who commissioned a cute Promptis AU! So, guess what, guys? Soulmates!
> 
> I really liked writing this one, and even though it took a while, I think it’s really good. I’m sobbing, these boys are too adorable, and I was even able to toss some Gladnis in there while I was at it! I hope you all enjoy. :>

_"But I found in you,_

_What was lost in me,_

_In a world so cold and empty._

_I could lie awake just to watch you breathe,_

_In the dead of night,_

_You went dark on me."_

_\- Dark On Me, Starset_

 

* * *

 

Prompto, over the twenty years he had been alive and breathing — scared to be who he was and wishing for acceptance against the odds — had learned to dislike three important little words that most seemed to long for more than a _‘how are you’_ and an _‘I am here.’_

_‘I love you.’_

There was something beneath his skin that used to crawl at the thought of hearing it, if just once, from someone — _anyone_ who bothered to care at all. He’d been eager for the fluttering of butterflies, desperate for the fortune of companionship, the thought of being wanted having a hold on his heart much unlike anything else; because, really, in what world was anyone able to survive without it?

It seemed that the answer was his own, lonely and cold, and because of Eos’ contempt — they were bound by the rules of the Astrals and cruelest of trickery — and he had learned to shy away from those simple words, always.

The flesh of his wrist itched often beneath the wristbands he never removed, stung, and reminded him of the mark he bore — in plain script, as though inked by an artist’s hand instead of embedded by the Gods. For most, he supposed it was a fanciful thing, a reminder to cherish each and every moment — but it was different for them, he was sure. It had to be, because why else would they live their lives so happily, as if there was an absence of weight on their shoulders?

Many had a speech writ upon their skin, a telltale thread of syllables that reminded them of the moment in which their loved one would cease to exist — and they had time, they were aware, they _knew_ it was year and years away. There was context to be followed, a warning gifted to them so that they could prepare, their worry still decades into the future.

But, he wasn’t given a _timeline_ , a phrase of understanding that would allow him to think that he and his would both die of old age — together in a cozy little house in the countryside, _no_ ; he was given word alone.

_‘I love you.’_

And he _hated_ it; common terms spoken everyday in affection, spoken so _sweetly_ and _kindly_ , it left him sick — to wonder which declaration of love would be his soulmate’s last.

And it was because he had met Noctis.

It was fated, he knew, ever since the moment he’d laid eyes upon the prince in high school — never expecting such a surge of emotion to run through his veins at high speed. In fact, Prompto was prepared to spend the rest of his life alone, because — before that first glance in homeroom — he’d never once felt romantically inclined toward anyone; even during times in which he starved for love.

However, Noctis was cool night air that reminded him of his past home, cold and seemingly uninviting; beautiful was an understatement, that much he could admit, and if it wasn’t for the ache of his wrist as blue eyes looked his way — he would have contently watched from afar. He endured the pain, the sear of his flesh as the other looked to him without a hint of emotion, and it took much of what the blond had to turn away.

For many months, he’d skirted around the thought that Noctis could be his soulmate, even long after the wound had healed and become a neat, black scar that told him of the last words the man would ever speak.

He should have been happy to see them, _he should have_ , but instead — he abhorred the script with the entirety of his very being.

Prompto learned that the prince received his mark that same day, and all the while the blond had been avoiding him, Noctis had been actively seeking him out. And proceeding many weeks of convincing — simply being the perfect person that he was — the blond gave in and fell in love.

And it was the most painful thing he would ever deal with in his life because of three profound words.

A sigh escaped him and he stopped thinking about it; the sun was rising, after all.

And morning was his favorite time of day.

It wasn’t because the heat crept in and darkened his freckles, nor was it the refreshing feeling of a good night’s sleep that roused his bones — it wasn’t even the promise of pancakes at his favorite diner — it was simply... _Noctis_. He slept with a frown on his face throughout the night and Prompto had quickly learned that it was just a quirky part of him he had to love; his arms were adorably possessive, holding onto the blond and refusing to let go, and the way he breathed was entrancing enough to capture his whole attentions. It was quiet moments, just watching and being grateful he had the prince with him at all that made him truly enjoy when the sun rose.

And all the same, it was moments like this — when Noctis opened his big, blue eyes — that left Prompto fluttering.

They blinked and squinted and _wrinkled_ , his nose twitching as he came to, focusing on the freckled blond once he was wide awake — not even moving to stretch. The gentlest of smiles appeared on those full lips and he nearly expected to be greeted with a _‘good morning’_ or a kiss, but instead, a rush of horror coursed through his veins at the sound of the other’s voice.

“I love you.”

Prompto’s reaction was immediate, body scrambling away from the man and pressing itself into the headboard, ignoring the look of hurt that crossed such handsome features as he’d ripped away from the man’s arms. Bare skin as far from the prince’s own, he felt as though he could hardly breathe, his voice cracking as he finally garnered the energy to speak. “D-Don’t say that!”

The man’s surprise felt like a slap in all directions, his eyes — like crystals — wide and glistening as he searched Prompto’s face for some indication that it was all some joke. “ _What?_ ”

The blond’s hand moved to grasp at his chest, angry red streaks lining freckled flesh where he hadn’t a shirt to protect him from the assault. And he hadn’t thought himself particularly weak to matters of the heart — he’d braved more in his life than most would want to — but he couldn’t help the quiver of his lips or the tears filling his eyes when it came to Noctis, when it came to his life.

He looked so confused, lying there and staring at him as if he’d kicked his puppy, but the gunner could think of nothing else but getting away — his voice a sob as he shook his head. “Don’t say that ever again.”

“Prompto…” The look of disbelief would be one he’d always remember, he was sure of it, but ever the more so — he would be unable to forget how it morphed into nothingness, an expression that looked neither upset nor angry. And somehow, Prompto would have rather that he screamed, or act as though the wound would be too hard to heal; but instead, he tossed the covers from his lithe form, lifting himself from their haven. “ _Fine_.”

The sharpness of his voice made Prompto flinch and he felt sorry he even looked the other’s way, but for good reason, he had bothered to think. Noctis hadn’t combusted, nor had he been victim of a mysterious heart attack. He was _fine_ , and he’d still spoken afterward, there was nothing to worry about; it wasn’t the end.

He could almost laugh.

But instead, he panicked.

“Wait, Noct, I didn’t mean—”

“You said what you meant.” The blond frowned, shifting forward in order to bring himself closer to the other man, reaching for him with all of his will. The prince simply shook his head, running a hand through mussed locks as he turned away, a long sigh escaping him all the way to the bathroom door. “Look, I’ll... see you after training.”

There wasn’t a slam or an angry outburst, just the clicking sound of Noctis locking the door that made him feel more far away than he’d ever been.

 

* * *

 

Prompto spent the next few hours worrying after Noctis left, dressing quickly and exiting their home to make way for the Citadel without so much as a word. And no matter how many times he called or texted, there was no reply received; he was sure Ignis or Gladiolus would have alerted him if anything happened, but he still couldn’t help the feeling of suffocation coiling in his chest, or the way his throat seemed to close up with every _'read’_ text. The prince didn’t understand — _wouldn’t —_ but he guessed that was his fault in the first place.

Was it really so bad to feel the way he did?

Noct had said them so casually, those three profound words that rocked Prompto’s world in the worst of ways, and it seemed like they were practically a death sentence — one that would make the gunner hold onto his heart each and every time they were spoken, fearing it would fall into the pit of his stomach and get eaten whole. He would only be able to watch then, as whatever unfortunate circumstance fated stole the prince away, leaving him by himself until the day he died, too.

Curling up in the corner of their cozy, blue loveseat, the gunner just allowed himself to feel miserable.

And it seemed like _days_ before he heard the sound of a key unlocking their front door from his spot on the couch, knees drawn under him and the television finally switched onto a channel he wasn’t quite paying attention to, thoughts on the prince whom had stepped right through their front door — not bothering to even look Prompto’s way. Staring over the back of the sofa, he watched as the man shrugged off his jacket — the one his father hated him wearing to meetings — and moved to settle beside him, the tension palpable.

Prompto spoke quietly, “how was everything?”

Noctis’ voice was terse. “Good.”

The night continued on in the same fashion.

The next few days reminded the blond of just why he hated arguments, the way he’d have to sit back and take Noct’s passive-aggressiveness until he decided to come around and actually talk to him — if he talked to him. He almost always swept the entire thing under the rug, and if the Prompto were honest, it was what he was putting his cards on; the last thing he wanted to have to explain was _why_.

He was thankful that the middle of the week was so heavy with errands to run, and though he hadn’t exactly wanted to disrupt whatever inner turmoil his soulmate was currently dealing with, he tried his best to make conversation whenever he possibly could. Picking up his keys, he turned to the prince, sitting upon the couch and watching the next episode of _Tenebrae’s Next Top Model_. “Do you need me to pick up anything from the store?”

“No. I can get it myself.”

Prompto frowned, but nodded in understanding anyway. “Oh. Okay.”

The trip to the marketplace just wasn’t the same, not without Noctis beside him, the both of them debating over which flavor of oreos they were going to fight over when they watched television that night. He was used to the prince being his constant shadow — warm, protective, an everlasting comfort. But instead, he wandered each aisle alone — a list in his hands and his cart remaining empty — until he reached the frozen foods, not even needing to ask if his soulmate was in the mood for anything sweet.

He simply grabbed the nearest tub of ice cream and left.

It wasn’t until he sat before the television, sugary confection on the tip of his tongue, that he realized it was mint flavored. And normally, he’d turn it away as Noctis laughed and told him that there was _‘more for me’ —_ but, he didn’t. It was easier to just bring spoon to mouth and mourn over the loss of Noct beside him, not really understanding much of the dialogue between Tuxedo Mask and Sailor Moon on screen, but it was difficult to be invested in anything when he was upset.

He was sure he hadn’t finished the sweet treat either, especially when his eyes became too heavy to keep open and his body sunk deeper into the sofa cushions than he could have expected. For that moment between being awake and falling asleep, Prompto had been thankful to forget about the prince for a while.

Of course, watching the protagonist of a magical girl program kissing the guy of her dreams before he shut his eyes didn’t quite do him justice.

_Bitch._

Still, when he awoke, there was a blanket that he was carefully tucked into and the coffee table was clear of any dishes. It warmed his heart, truly, because it had to mean that his soulmate wasn’t nearly as angry as Prompto thought he was.

Noctis had a way about him, held a grudge a bit longer than was necessary, but he still cared — he always cared.

Sitting up and removing himself from the couch, the blond stepped over into the kitchen, taking a look around to see if there were signs that Noctis attempted to cook for himself; the room was clean, however, and he felt a little disappointed that there was no indication that the man had bothered to stay home at all. Prompto’s eye caught a post-it note on the fridge, a message scribbled in small letters, leaving him — at the very least — relieved that he was let in on the other’s current location.

_‘Training with Gladio.’_

“Of course.”

Setting the note on the counter, there was the sudden feeling of loneliness that filled his chest, and after several days of silent arguing — he just wished for some kind of release from his tension. And he’d never been one for decision making, nor was he the type to reach out to others to form plans, but as he pulled his cellular from his pocket — he couldn’t help but think that there was a first time for everything.

He only wished that all people picked up after the first ring like Ignis did.

“Hey, Ig, wanna get coffee?” Part of him hoped he wasn’t interrupting the other man, but Prompto had gotten rather good at not letting his anxiety get the best of him, especially with such a patient friend whom seemed delighted for his company. “Citadel Cafe? Got it. See you in ten.”

Of course, it was more like twenty, because for all of the refinement he’d learned over the past few years, punctuality never quite made it onto his list of admirable qualities. Not that Ignis minded, because when he’d finally arrived, the man was already seated, cup of ebony in front of him and eyes on a particularly lengthy news article. And he must have ordered for Prompto as well, because a large mug piled to the top with whipped cream sat before the empty chair across from the advisor.

Taking his seat, the blond quietly sipped from his cup, waiting and watching as Ignis picked up his own, taking a conservative sip before sighing indulgently.

“They always make the greatest cup of coffee.”

Prompto could have laughed, the line always finding its way into conversation during each visit to the cafe, however few times that actually had been. “They’ve only been doing it your whole life here.”

To that, the chamberlain could only nod in agreement. “Their practice made for perfection. I still remember my first brew.”

The gunner snorted, dipping a finger into his whipped cream. “Weirdo.”

“Chocobos.”

“Hey, it’s not the same! I don’t eat them… like _some_ evil people.”

A chuckle soon followed and Prompto found the laughter infectious, feeling better than he had in a long while despite having only been there a few minutes. It had been the greatest surprise of all, that he’d become so incredibly close to the advisor, but he was grateful for his care and reassurance — even more so, his desire to spend time with the gunner, even if the fact that he’d been the cause of Ignis’ troubles once or twice when they were younger rang true.

The man took another sip of his ebony, the affection he had for caffeine never ceasing to amuse him. “So, why did you wish to meet today? Is there something on your mind?”

Shrugging, Prompto attempted to disguise his unease; the chamberlain was always far too observant and knew his moods a bit well for the gunner’s comfort. “Just wanted to talk! It’s been a while, since you and Gladio got hitched and all.”

“That is very true. We’ve been terribly busy as of late, what with planning a coronation and moving into our own estate.”

“That sounds exciting!”

“It does, doesn’t it?” The bloom of color on Ignis’ cheeks was fascinating, but he guessed that it was what love did to a person — made them even more bright and beautiful than they already were; he’d thought the same of Noctis once, and maybe even himself. And he had to be thankful for reminder, there were never times in which he reminisced so much as he did when the bespectacled man was around. “Let us head toward the training grounds, they should be finishing up soon.”

Prompto felt as though his good times were being cut short, however, the training grounds being where the source of his upset was currently working with Gladio; he didn’t let it show, for what it was worth. “O-Oh. Okay! Yeah.”

“Very well.”

He tried not to stare the other man in the eye, but he could feel the knowing look he bore the entire trek through the Citadel.

 

* * *

 

Sitting there beside Ignis hadn’t really been a part of his plan, but it was a welcome addition in comparison to the alternative; the advisor had always been warm, peaceful company, and after living in the fiery pit of his own anguish, he thought that the older man might just be what he needed.

Looking to him, hand wrapped around an expensive fountain pen, scribbling away in his hand-bound notebook and gaze having long since fallen from the gunner’s person — Prompto wondered briefly about the man’s own Mark. He and Gladio had been together for a long time, as far as he knew, and he was hoping that Ignis had some sort of advice on what he was feeling.

He just wished he was a bit more eloquent with his word choices.

“So, how do you feel about it?”

The sound of pen to paper stilled, a look of confusion crossing a normally stoic visage as the chamberlain looked to Prompto — a question in his eyes. “Feel about what?”

_It’s now or never._

“Your Mark.” Trying to keep from speaking with a somber tone and utterly failing, Ignis was quick to pick up on just when a friend was in more pieces than they’d like to admit; not that he hadn’t known before.

“Prompto, are you alright?”

He wanted to lie, to make up some story to atone for his curiosity, but the man’s eyes were like that of a compass — always looking toward the truth. “I just… Noct and I—”

Lips pursed and the advisor lifted a gloved hand to hush his rambling, quieting him with nothing but a single word. “Please.”

Brows frowning the slightest bit, Prompto sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”

“No. My Mark; it says _‘please.'_ ” The resulting look of pain and discomfort unsettled the blond, and within him, he could only think of the way he’d feel if Noctis’ last words were a plea; it made him question his feelings toward his own inked skin. At the very least, he would know the prince loved him until the very end. He wanted to voice his sympathy, but Ignis was quick to continue, never one to ask for it. “I don’t dwell on it, not often, but I know within my heart what it means. He will die young, tragically.”

“Ignis—”

“These Marks are a burden to all, Prompto. We simply choose to live happily with the time we do have. Whatever yours happens to say, you are not alone in bearing the harsh reality it brings to mind when you look at it.”

Prompto wasn’t sure if it was because the man was older, wiser, had been in love longer — that it suddenly felt foolish to be afraid, and the calm reassurance he’d been given made him realize that maybe there _was_ a silver lining that he just needed more time to see.

Swallowing thickly, a freckled hand reached up to scratch at a spotted cheek. “...I’m sorry.”

Ignis smiled then, kind and understanding as he always was, shrugging his shoulders before looking to his watch. “Noct should be finished with training. Shall I fetch him?”

Shaking his head, Prompto stood, shoving his hands into his pockets as he smiled the chamberlain’s way. “Nah, it’s okay. He doesn’t know I’m here.”

“I do now.”

The silence was near palpable.

Noctis stood in the doorway, overlooking the both of them where they were planted, expression revealing nothing of his feelings, but that was as foreign as the rhythm of his breaths to Prompto; the prince always kept his emotions on guard until they broke into tiny, unsalvageable pieces.

Ignis was far from comfortable, he could tell, and took the opportunity to stand as well, adjusting his collar as he made his way to the door. “Well, that is my cue to check up on Gladiolus. Hopefully he didn’t rough you up too much.”

“Actually, he might need help nursing that black eye I gave him.”

Good-naturedly, the advisor exhaled mirthfully, the smile on his face kind — forgiving — though he spoke ever the more sarcastically. “Goodness. _Thank you_ , he’ll be whining about it now for _days_.”

The footsteps that followed were careful, counted, as though Ignis was unsure he was in the clear until he was far down the hall and out of sight. And with the chamberlain gone, he felt bereft of the buffer and protection the bespectacled man’s presence provided, not wishing to withstand the discomfort of being in another room with Noctis.

Standing awkwardly from his seat, the prince’s eyes following his every move, Prompto gave a nervous titter. “...Well, I should go—”

“Forget about it. Let’s take my car.”

Prompto looked a bit skeptical. “We can’t just leave mine here.”

For the first time since Noctis walked out of their apartment with his eyes to the ground, he gave the blond a smile. “Sure we can. It’s not going anywhere.”

The gunman felt disarmed by the very sight of the prince, seemingly more relaxed than he had been in a long while, hands twisting themselves into loose gym shorts and grabbing for his keys, beckoning his partner along.

And Prompto just couldn’t refuse.

“...Alright.”

Despite the lightheartedness of his soulmate’s suggestion, he still felt a bit apprehensive on the car ride home. The air was silent and, for once, the man’s hands were on ten and two — expression calm as he focused on the road before him. It made the blond nervous, but he didn’t voice the feeling, instead trying to make for light conversation.

“Wanna listen to music?”

“No, I’m fine.” The reply was quick, almost automatic, and Prompto sunk further into his seat.

“Oh. Okay.” He tried to keep the disappointment from his tone, but unfortunately, it remained — and he caught Noctis’ guilty visage out of the corner of his eye, refusing to look at him.

A gloved hand reached forward, calloused fingers turning the dial until their favorite station played steadily at a pleasant volume from the speakers; the gunner sighed, feeling relieved for the background noise.

“Sorry.”

“Huh?” Hopeful, Prompto turned to look to the prince, only finding that blue eyes remained on the city streets.

“I’m just sorry.”

It was the last the man said all the way back home.

 

* * *

 

Noctis suggested they both sit on the couch and watch television, which was more than he’d asked for all week, and with all the willpower he could muster — the gunner wished that this would be the moment that broke the ice, that cleaned the slate for them so that everything could be brand new once more, because he couldn't quite take another week of constantly stepping away from each other. The prince hadn’t seemed intent on forgetting about anything as he had hoped either, though, because just a few minutes into the first action movie they came across, he asked if they could talk. And the words left a chill upon his skin, because his soulmate was never one for talking it out, the blond knew — the seriousness of his request washing over him like a negative degree sea.

Prompto curled in on himself, attempting to become as small as possible under Noctis’ gaze; he couldn’t stand the tension, the air of misunderstanding that he’d been suffering through for days. It was suffocating, fearing for the prince’s life while simultaneously fearing the man’s thoughts themselves. If he must, he thought, he could live in that small corner of their sofa forever — cowering, unable to lift his head to the one person who bothered to love him, even as he felt the shift in the cushions from the other’s weight.

Noctis was patient, or simply felt like keeping silent, he was unsure; but soon, he made his intentions clear with a sigh, leaning back and running a hand through his grown out locks like he always did when he was out of sorts.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” His voice was soft, unassuming and gentle, without malice. Prompto knew he was ready to listen, but somehow it was harder to be ready to speak, of letting the last shred of worry he held onto go.

It was _now or never_ , though, and he couldn’t stand losing his nerve.

Fingers worked anxiously, unbuckling the bracelets he wore around his wrist and revealing words he’d come to hate; in his haste, he threw the bands onto the other side of the coffee table in order to avoid putting them right back on.

Brushing a thumb over the fine script, he pursed his lips, shoving it away from himself and into the other man’s chest. “It’s this.”

“Your Mark?”

Closing his eyes ever so tightly, he forced himself to believe that he wasn’t revealing his only secret, thinking that if he focused on the darkness his shut lids provided him — it would feel just like ripping off a bandaid, quick, over as soon as it had started.

Ever so tenderly, Noctis took his hand, and he knew then that he was a fool to think that it would be done with so easily. His soulmate was a man who needed time to understand things, explanation, because he knew that nothing could ever be taken at face value; there was too much complication in the mind of a human being for that.

“Yes… It says _‘I love you.’_ ” Prompto could feel the way Noct’s hands cradled his own, the way his fingers tickled over his palm as he traced over the script of his wrist, carefully and feather light. It took but a slight press of a thumb to his flesh for the blond to open his eyes again, watching as the prince drank in the image with fascination; he couldn’t understand the way his lips twitched upward, as though he was _happy_ to see his final words, words that only made the bearer miserable. “Why are people so happy to see these words? Why do they all look at their Marks and think _‘what a beautiful thing?’_ I don’t understand, Noct, this is the last thing you’re going to ever say to me, why should I be happy when I don’t know which time will be it?”

There was a long moment of silence, and after dreading the reply he’d receive for so long, Prompto was a bit surprised to see the watery grin that appeared on his soulmate’s face. “I’m a bit relieved that it’s this, you know?”

“... What?”

“I was afraid that it was going to be something else, like you being tired of me or this being a breakup talk instead of a makeup talk.”

The panic that rose in the blond’s chest left him breathless, and he caught both of the man’s hands in his own, shaking his head wildly. “That would never happen!”

“I know, I know. I mean, I didn’t know, but…”

“I… I’m sorry.” Noctis stiffened beneath his hands, and though tight-lipped, his smile still remained.

“I cherish you, Prompto. I’ve learned to, because life is short and you never know what’s coming next.” Platinum lashes blinked at the sudden wisdom, and the prince had never sounded more like his father than he did in that moment, but it somehow comforted him. “But words are endless, we can never pinpoint when it’ll be the last time we say anything.”

“I just—”

“Don’t think I’m not scared everyday of my life, too.” Slowly, quick hands unclipped the watch around the prince’s wrist, dark lashes fluttering as inked skin was revealed - the steel clock pulled from his hand and placed carefully upon their joined laps, every tick in time with their heartbeats. “Every time you start with that apologizing, I just…”

Noctis only shook his head, and lifting his wrist for Prompto to see, in a generally quick-handed scrawl — was his own Mark.

_‘I’m sorry.’_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos motivate me!


End file.
